00762: The SpiderNest Files
by bella142
Summary: It was several months after the battle of Manhattan, and Clint and Natasha finally feel like they found their niche with the Avengers. But not everything is exactly as it appears. Soon, the duo accept a mission, and how it unravels will choke the lives of everyone they know.
1. Chapter 1

**Hii! I know this is reaalllyy short. Have no fear though! I will post the next chapter tomorrow (7/12) and the latest would be the 13. I felt like the prologue should stand by itself. I know it's really short, but if you have any critiques or want to review, it really makes me feel good :D Tell me how you feel, and I hope you life it!**

Romance was never in the equation. It was never something they admired. It was a frivolity- a third party attempt to weaken the mind. It was never the binding factor in the promise of protection. Blood was. Blood was thicker than water. It hung in the air between them. Her ledger may have been wiped of scarlet, but it did not constitute that their hands were given the same pardon. And they paid the price. They carried the burden. They were paralyzed in sleep by sweat filled night terrors, the only comfort was retreat into the arms of their partner.

In the mornings following such events, Natasha would always say she was thankful for the nightmares. She said it let her know she still held humanity, no matter how contorted it may be. It reassured her she wasn't a machine. That in the depths of her mind, remorse was still prevalent.

Clint would wake with nail marks indented into the palms of his hands. Unfurling his fingers, he would find it hard to move the digits, the muscles sheathing his form spasming as they stretched like brittle canvas. He never voiced it, but disagreed with Natasha's open acceptance of never getting a rested night of sleep. He knew what it felt like to be undone. To be broken and never know if a coherent thought was possible again. He knew what it meant to be the guest in your own skin. To be obliterated in the very seams of existence.

These assaults upon their psyches made it easier to commit to each other. Even if it was to stay strictly platonic. To never unstitch the barriers that were in place for a reason. At least that is what they divulged to whoever asked. But in reality, who knew if that was the truth? They were labyrinths created only for each other. Hedge mazes with unfinished ends. And that is what made them the most incredible people out there; their complete realization that humanity, will one day burn to the ground. And yet, they would never think of giving up saving others. Even if they were never thanked.

This story does not have the ending you were hoping for. But truly, what in life ever does? This is not a fairy tale. Or a romance. What you come across is the story of Clinton Barton and Natasha Romanoff- people that have intertwined with other's lives than they would have ever thought. This odyssey has been derived from journals collected from the belongs of Clint. Director Fury gave me the honorable, but sad task of compiling personal narrations, anecdotes, conversations, and interviews of the subjects and fellow colleagues- who in, turn had become their family. My assignment is to bind these leaflets of broken lives into a final volume. One to never be forgotten.

This is Virginia Pepper Potts, signing off.

_Dedicated to Clint Barton, Natasha Romanoff, and every other agent that made the choice _

_of living their work._


	2. Chapter 2

**Woooooowww. That next day I promised turned into several weeks I see...I am truly, truly sorry for the wait! I went on an unexpected trip, and I haven't had time! I hope that this chapter makes up for it. I am going to be much faster at updating! I promise! Also, I know the prologue seemed really sad, but I PROMISE you that this story will have a great ending. It will have a twist, and I have it sorta planned out in my head (I know the ending at least) and I promise that it will be great. Just bare with me! I hope that you all want to stick around for that. It will be great. The only way to get me to write faster and get it posted faster and such is to review! So please review! Tell me what you like! Tell me what you hate! Tell me what you ate for breakfast! I don't care! Write something so I know that you read it at least? Pleasssee? Reviews are my only source of nutrients. They are what I live on. Anyway, I hope you like this chapter, and just let me know!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own BlackHawk, or anything else in the Marvel/Disney realm. If I owned Clintasha, they would be married by now.**

**Also, a very brief mention of bi-polar/Depression. And cursing. (D**mnit)**

Natasha woke to the sound of rain. It was five in the morning- later than her usual rising. She stretched, the bones in her back cracking from the uncomfortable position of her slumber. She padded over to the window, early dawn smudging with rain giving everything a monochromatic color; whitewashed and sodden.

It had been several months since the events of the Avengers, Loki, and the Battle had transpired. After the battle- Tony being the demure man that he is- demanded that they all live in the unofficial Avengers Headquarters (formerly Stark Tower.) Hesitantly, and with doubts, they all agreed, and soon they were all settled. Jarvis and Stark decided to take bets on who would leave the tower first, either by being kicked out or an inability to thrive in a group environment. (Secretly, Stark would never kick someone out. He knows what that feels like.)

It was never voiced, but everyone had the suspicion that it would be Natasha to crack first. Every morning they feared to find her room empty, a bottle of vodka with her widow symbol left in the center of the bed as her departing gift. That was one of the reasons Clint liked to sleep next to her if she permitted it. It made him feel -no matter how delusional the thought was- that he had some power to stop her if she decided to leave.

She never did though. She never even hinted. For once, she felt at peace. And after about a month, everyone was happy to realize she was most likely a semi-permanent- if not permanent addition to the Tower.

The other Avenger that the group thought would leave was Bruce. He loved the lab, the friends, the stimulating conversations and in-depth knowledge; the unlimited and endless supply of technology and money and accurate science reports. (Living in Calcutta for three years makes you appreciate the finer things in life) but he was afraid of losing control. Everyone trusted that he wouldn't "hulk out" even when anger was coming off him in waves. But of course- he was his own worst enemy. He would never trust himself. And the wary looks Natasha gives him on rare occasions proved his point. ( He didn't blame her. He did try to kill her on the helicarrier.) But he stayed. He stayed for Tony, if no one else. He had found a friend, and he wasn't going to let that one sense of normalcy slip from his life.

Clint had been gone for several weeks undercover in some forsaken lands; leaving the infamous Widow with an unfamiliar dull throb in her chest. It was not love-sickness; that was unacceptable. It was a nagging feeling- that she didn't have someone to watch her back. That she was left in the open. An easy target, to say the least. And for some reason, she couldn't shake it. The realization of this left a bitter taste in her mouth, coming to the conclusion that she had begun to rely on her partner more than she should. The Russian operative she once had been would have kicked her ass for even having a partner. But that assassin had never seen a clean slate in her life before Clint. Things change, calls are made, lives takes a turn, and you hope that it will be for the better instead of the alternative.

Natasha was pulled from her musings by a hesitant tap on the door that fell into a fast three note knock. She stood there, still watching the sleepy city slug along, making no move to answer the call. The knock was repeated, and then footsteps faded down the corridor. As soon as she was sure the visitor was gone, she peeked out the door, finding the familiar cup of coffee left on a plate in front of her. She smiled, taking it and inhaling the pungent scent.

Steve and Natasha had kindled an unspoken friendship, and when Clint was away, Steve did small things to help unlikely friend out. He knew the feeling the super soldier serum could give you. Intense highs, and unimaginable lows. Natasha's serum being a Soviet knock-off most likely didn't make anything better. When he first met her after the Battle, he observed her. Curious on how she controlled her emotions so well. How she stayed so stoic in the most dire of situations. How she had a permanent poker face when he _knew _she must be roaring on the inside. It was like seeing a lion in a restaurant. Unnatural to say the least. Later on, when Clint had left on his first solo mission since Loki's mind control, Natasha showed up at Steve's door at three in the morning, and uttered one sentence.

"I'm out of coffee."

In that, he felt the weight. He knew exactly what she meant. In that, everything clicked into place. He realized that in all the time he was observing Natasha, Clint was somewhere in the background. He was the balm for the infinite fire that she was.

Rogers stood there for several more moments, trying to gather his disheveled thoughts when she said it again.

"Coffee?" It wasn't much of a question, and they both knew it.

Steve realized that Clint was always the one that slipped a cup of coffee in Nat's hand in the morning, between bickering with Tony and reaching for the paper.

From that point on, Steve made a point to find out what the aloof Avenger drank and made sure that whenever her other half wasn't around, he would take up the slack- with complete discretion of course. This notion didn't pass by the spy without being returned- she happily agreed to spar with the soldier anytime he wanted, since in a way, she was the closest thing he had to an equal fight.

Natasha curled up on her window seat, letting the muted dawn envelope her in a pewter hue. That is, until her entire dwelling began to shake with a pulse and she realized Tony must have woken up. She padded down the winding staircase until she reached the common area- witnessing the scene before her. Steve was attempting to make orange juice which was turning out to being a large pulpy mess more than anything, and Tony had strewn himself across the kitchen table, tinkering with his reactor.

"DAMMIT TONY, what do you think your doing!" Bruce thundered in, the usually mild tempered scientist now a sickly green color.

"Banner, if you must know, while I was walking to breakfast, I was struck with the greatest idea on how to improve the reactor! That is what I am doing!"

"On the kitchen table!"

"Oh, I'm sorry! It's only the thing KEEPING ME ALIVE."

"Well then turn off this damn music or the other guy with PERSONALLY RIP IT FROM YOUR WALLS."

"Hey now! It's not cheap like a Bose System! No. It's custom made. BY ME. The only person that gets to touch it is ME, so leave your green paws off it." Stark snickered as he clicked the bone shaking Metallica off. Natasha perched over by Steve and his mess, trying to stay out of the path of the roaring scientists. To calm the quell, Rogers quickly whipped up some homemade bacon and french toast, and placed it in front of the science bros. (Or tried to- there wasn't much room on the table at that moment.) Soon, the duo dug in and the mood had lightened considerably, leaving two men were howling with laughter before too long.

"Nice move Rogers" Nat quipped digging into her own plate of homecooking. Steve shook his head in agreement.

Most of the time, the tower was a pretty peaceful retreat for the hard working heros, but sometimes quarters became too cramped and lines were easily crossed. (Mostly by stark.) Only a handful of arguments had escalated into property damage, and only one did Pepper have to speak to the press about. (Thor got a little too trigger happy with the lightening.)

Surprisingly, the most intense argument wasn't with The Hulk, (he did take out three floors once) or even Thor. It was with Clint. The snarky archer who was the only one adept enough to wrangle words with the billionaire himself. Of course, it started when Tony had too much to drink at dinner one night.

As the team was all eating together on a rare occasion, (Darcy and Jane had even made an appearance) Tony decided to toe the line between curiosity and nosiness once again.

"You know what? I think I saw Clint sneaking into Natasha's room last night. Did anyone else see that? No? Do either want to share anything?" Tony yipped out, lifting his glass and motioning to the pair.

Natasha laid her silverware down slowly, an icy chill emanating from her general direction which fell over the entire dinner party. Clint, on the other hand, began choking on the beer he was drinking mid swig; prompting Thor to hardily slap him across the back.

"Stark, whatever type of petty rumors you are trying to spread, it needs to stop right now." The redheaded spy growled out. The only way that he would have known about Clint coming to her room was over surveillance videos. And if he _was _snooping around on them, she was quite literally going to jump across the table and strangle him.

While Clint was trying to recover from the sudden turn of conversation as well as the thunder gods slap on the back, Tony decided to continue.

"No harm intended, I was just curious if the Hawk finally got caught up in the Spiders web? Or is it the other way around? Did the Spider finally make a home in the Hawks nest?"

"Stark- I'm warning you- crap is about to hit the fan..." The spy warned yet again, her muscles visibly coiling up for a eminent strike.

"We're all adults here, aren't we?" Tony gestured to the others who had stopped eating, trying to decide if they should help restrain someone or flee from the scene.

"I will find out anything I want to know. And you can't stop me. Heck, SHIELD couldn't even stop me!" Stark taunted. At this point, he had pretty much signed his death warrant. The entire table was watching Natasha to see what her reaction was to be, that they hadn't even thought of the archer who had been quiet up until this point.

Suddenly, before anyone could react, the archer was in the billionaires face- and punched him square in the nose- making him fall to the floor with a thud.

"Mind your own damn business Stark." Clint spat, walking off down the corridor.

Tony got himself up, and went to get some ice, a smirk on his face the entire time. He had gotten what he wanted. Their reactions spoke volumes. In all actuality, he never saw any videos of the two. He was just bluffing; and it just so happened that what he said was correct. Little did he know though- that Natasha hadn't asked Clint to come the previous night. He heard her screams all the way down the hall that they shared. He came because she needed him to coax her from the waves of flashbacks of the Red Room. Even if she thought she could carry the weight of that herself, he was needed. Neither ever spoke of those evenings to anyone. It was their own private moments; to feel the warmth of their best friend breathing against their neck. To have an extra pulse pull you through the torrents of horror.

Natasha was thinking of that particular night and the punch thrown at Tony before Pepper came up with a morning paper for all of them.

"Natasha? Would you mind being Natalie Rushman again for a day? I have to close a business deal with some fellows from Argentina...their sorta ruff, and I just don't feel like any trouble today. So I may need some back up." Pepper quipped, kissing Tony on the cheek.

"Yeah, sure no problem! Gotta love the idiots."

"Honey, is this something I should be worried about? Like, IronMan worried?" Tony garbled out between ripping off hunks of bacon.

"No babe, just some high rollers with more money than they know what to do with." Pepper began pouring a cup of coffee and took a seat next to her fiancée.

"Master Stark, Director Fury is on line one. He says the call is urgent. Would you like to answer or let him leave a message?" Jarvis suddenly announced over the intercom.

"Let him leave a message Jarvis! Nothing at this moment is that important."

Several moments later, Jarvis came back on. "Sir, his influx of tonal notes indicate that he is of duress. He is very adamant on speaking."

"Fine!" Stark bellowed, and before he could even finish speaking, a screen rolled down over the windows and Director Fury's face appeared on the screen.

"Good morning Avengers. Well, I don't know if it is such a good morning after all, to be truthful."

The entire group fell silent, and at once Natasha had a churning in her stomach.

"Last night, at 22 hundred hours, one of your own- Clint Barton- and his team were compromised during the peak of their mission. Seven agents were fatally wounded, three are MIA, and Clint- well, Clint is in critical care being flown back to SHIELD ASAP. I thought I should let it be known to you all, and especially Agent Romanoff. Agent, I request your presents immediately at headquarters. This has been a grim day for all of us." And with that, Fury's video flickered to a black screen which rolled back into the ceiling.

**DUN DUN DUNNN! What is going to happen next? Is everyone going to be ok! Please review and tell me what you think! Reviews help me write faster! Thanks!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Whelp. This just litterally vomitted from my mind. That'****s the only way I can explain it. I just sat down, meaning to write a few lines, and this happened. There really isn't much Blackhawk conversation, but I hope you enjoy what unfolds! I meant for all of this to be about a paragraph or two, but the backstory of the two just came out! So, I hope you enjoy the backstory, and my goal was to keep them in character as much as possible. Please review and let me know if you think I did! PLEASSSEEEE. I would muchly appreciate it. :D Next chapter though, have no worry! Clint will be back, and Natasha will be pissed that he went and got himself hurt. hahah. Clint will not be killed off though, so no one fret. :D Anyway, onward! **

Natasha had only seen Clint Barton seriously injured once.

She was cornered...her eyes dilated and mind racing with a venomous cocktail that they pumped into all the Red Room Assassins. She was kneeling, blood beginning to seep through her kakis from a large slit on her leg. That was one of the problems the Soviet Drug addressed- stemming blood flow from what could result into a fatal wound. Her opponent on the other hand, didn't happen to be so lucky. He had a ragged tear down his shoulder descending to his arm. Crimson began pooling over jagged fissures of flesh. The laceration a courtesy from the hand-to-hand combat the two had engaged in earlier; where Natasha played dirty and dug a blade into his arm. Even with the sickly amount of blood dripping from her opponents wound, his aim on his bow was stock still. The bow held two arrows directed right for her; one designated for her brain the other tilted for her heart.

Natasha held her gun at the assassin as they came to a stalemate. Unlike her counterpart though, her aim was shaky. The dispatch she had made with her team had taken a sour turn, leaving her on the run for about a week. That long without the drugs she had been bred and groomed on was giving her unfavorable side effects. Giving every bend and turn she took excruciating vertigo. She had been a swift and effective killer since she was issued into use. So efficient that she made the SHIELD most wanted grid several months after she had hit the assassin scene. There were agents before, sent to take her out. They wanted her either dead on the spot- or to be brought alive so they could pull the location of her home base from her; by any means necessary. But Natasha Romanoff was a shadow; a wisp of darkness, a human form of death itself. She seemed to be a figment of SHIELDS imagination. Natasha became the ultimate trophy to take down- what all new agents aspired to conquer. Yet any able body sent to terminate the cardinal phantom was never seen again.

For these reasons, SHIELD decided to send Clint Barton, their best assassin to end it once and for all. The other more personal reason was this mission was a punishment for unapproved decisions Clint had made on previous assignments. And these self appointed calls had ended poorly for all involved. The board was hoping to quell the loose canon. And if loosing him in the ongoing feud, at least they wouldn't have to worry about keeping a rein on the man. What Clint Barton decided to do though, was both unpreceded, unexpected and caused pandemonium that rocked the very core of the SHIELD.

Clint could have shot Natasha dead right there and then. Between the cacophony of Soviet forces coming to kill the both of them (once a Red Room agent is at a disadvantage- they are always going to be at a disadvantage) and the sight of the Russian cornered- her pupils contracting and dilating and the general look of disorientation twisting her features, she resembled a wounded bear, fighting until death was upon her. Appearing that the inevitable would be approaching sooner than later, and the fact that Clint's wound was becoming alarmingly numb, the SHIELD operative dropped his bow, cussing under his breath.

"Get up. You're coming with me. We have to move quickly, for your "friends" are coming to "rescue" us." Barton tried to joke.

Natasha understood Clint, yet didn't make a move, instead staring back at him; her gun cocked.

Clint took her inaction as her disadvantage of not understanding English.

"Damn it. What, did they not teach you English in hell? Surprising." He scoffed. "Look, kill me. I don't give a damn, missy. But if you have any interest in seeing tomorrow, then get up and grab my hand. We have to go. And by go, I mean we should have been out of here 45 seconds ago."

Natasha's mind was racing in a foggy haze. She comprehended his words, but was unable to connect them. Her subconscious told her that they held a heavy meaning; something she had been wishing- no pleading- her whole life to hear. And now that they were being offered to her by no less than her contracted killer, she couldn't surface with an answer. One thing she did know though, she had no interest in seeing tomorrow. Tomorrow or any day after that. She had had enough of the bitter, broken pace she had lived. Like a cassette on rewind with the ribbon removed.

Clint still stood there, his arm completely useless by this point, figuring he was going to die next to his enemy and knew not many people back at base would take notice. Well maybe his handler. But Coulson, being the best that there was, would easily get much more obedient agents that he didn't have to rein back in on his free time. While deciding to have a cliché life-flashback-before-death moment, a surprisingly firm grip curled around his hand, beginning to trot decisively in the opposite direction.

Natasha doesn't remember much from her escape, the first time laying eyes on her future partners face even somewhat hazy. But the one thing that stands striking in her mind- and even has her waking up in sweats at night; was when he dropped cold in his own blood. They had reached the runway for the aircraft designated to lift them to base, when suddenly her protector and murderer collapsed beside her, blood filling her palms when she tried to catch his fall. Turning back around, she saw the shockingly large pools filling his footsteps. She- in her unreliable logic at the time- hadn't realized that her new found ally didn't benefit from the same blood slowing drugs that was making her so incapacitated at the same time. She had made him jog- if not outright run- to secure her indefinite future. And he complied, sacrificing his own safety- and possibly life- in the process for a useless time bomb set out to kill everything in her way- including him.

Natasha began screaming to his unresponsive body in Russian. Suddenly, out of the groggy mindset she was still stuck in, men in black suits swarmed the newly born team, trying to find out what had happened. At the time, the suited men didn't realize that who they were speaking with happened to be the infamous Romanoff herself. The USSR was very personal on keeping their agent's pictures a secret; highly monitoring any photojournalism that happened in their country- or anyone else's for that matter. No one would suspect the now unconscious Barton would have made such an out of line and outrageous call as to bring the woman back alive- with not even a single security measure set in place.

The agents tried to coax a statement from Natasha, who did her best to comply, but with her broken English, her still drugged body going through withdrawals and, and her attention still stuck on the amazing fact that someone had cared enough to save her, she started yelling in Russian again. Her main concern was her captor, still broken on the floor, bleeding out from the wound her own hands had carved for him. She had never hated herself more than in that moment. Never wanted to tear herself apart from the inside more for who she was, who she was created to be. She was pretty sure that she would never be able to be rewired, or rebooted. Regenerated, or rebuilt. She was engrained with nothing more than destruction. In that moment she allowed the full realization of what she had allowed herself to become penetrate her consciousness, feeling the full wave of bitter, cold, nothingness settle in her stomach. That was the one time she had seen Clint Barton at his weakest, the point of possibly never returning. And it was all because of her.

Later on, when the duo had officially become partners, and Natasha was an accredited member of SHIELD, she told him the true broken feeling she had felt that day. How she was still afraid that she would never truly crawl from that hole. That she would always stay that monster. He sat her down, gently braced her shoulders and smiled.

"Nat. For you even feeling those things that day, for you even admitting this to me, is one of the most complete sign of healing. For you to have fears, and to have remorse, to wanting to make the future better for yourself- is the way you know that you are changing. For nothing but the better. Don't ever think different. I knew it when I saw you. I knew you weren't all bad. You just had a rusty exterior I needed to polish you up. Set you right in the world again. And look. Here you are." Clint grinned, his monologue genuinely uplifting Natasha's doubts. He moved his hands down her arms to cup her hands in his. Two pairs of the worlds most deadliest palms, grasping each others, never wanting to let go; yet treating the other as if they were the most fragile being in the world.

Mariah Hill greeted Natasha Romanoff at the entrance of the helicarrier ten minutes after Fury had delivered the news to the team. She had dropped her plate of whatever she had been eating-she couldn't even remember anymore- and without a word to anyone, quietly walked up the stairs leading to the waiting carrier that would take her to headquarters. She knew that the elevator would be much quicker, but the fact that she would have about thirty seconds alone left her unnerved enough to take the twenty eight flights of stairs. Her body may have betrayed her of her true emotions in those thirty seconds, and she would never let that happen. Her tactic was indifference, and that was how it was going to stay. Her even footfalls on the stairs soon turned erratic as she was sure she was out of hearing. She began to jump seven stairs at a time, never slowing down until she burst through the door onto the helicopter pad awaiting her arrival.

As Agent Hill led her through headquarters, other agents were dealing with commotions around her. Apparently, the mission that had fallen out was bigger than she knew. She was nervous of seeing her partner. For some reason she felt that she should blame herself for this happening, even though she had been thousand of miles away, unaware of any wrong doings. Exactly as it should have been. The memory of their first- and what could have been last- encounter replayed in her head and just wouldn't leave her alone_. It was not her fault this time. _Natasha had to repeat over and over, berating herself in the process.

Instead of going to visit her partner, agent Hill lead her into a room with a stainless steal table in the center. It felt eerily like an interrogation room. Soon, agent Coulson and Director Fury entered, making agent Romanoff straighten instantaneously.

"What is this about?" She asked coldly, instinctively looking for the quickest escape.

"Calm down, Romanoff. Don't always jump to conclusions. I am regretful of the turn of events that have transpired. The perpetrator should have been seized and prosecuted at the first suspicion of who he was working for. But with what has happened, I am obligated to give you these papers, and ask you to sign them in the case of the most unfortunate situation." Director Fury presented, having Coulson slide a plain cream folder over to her.

Natasha opened the folder, scanning the first page, and then the next, and the next, until her eyes grew wider as she began flipping through the stack.

"What...what..is this? What are these papers for?" Natasha asked, shocked.

"Agent Romanoff, Agent Barton has asked you to make any type of legal or medical decisions for him in a case like this where he is incapacitated to do so. If you agree, you just have to sign several pages to make it official. I know that this is unfamiliar to you, and it is quite out of the ordinary; it is almost expressly the handler that holds this type of power- but when it was time to renew these documents, agent Barton was very adamant on making you the decider." Coulson finished with a sympathetic look.

Natasha sat back in shock. What was she supposed to say? Obviously she would sign the papers, she had too. She would always keep her partners best interests in mind. But what caused him to trust her with this? Of course they had to trust each other with their lives everyday in the field. But it just seemed so foreign when it was documented and official. She did not deserve this power. Actually looking upon the papers, she couldn't actually fathom Clint making the conscious decision to entrust a Soviet Spy with his life. Even if she was reformed and wiped clean.

Without a second thought, she signed the papers and prayed that she would never need the use for the power he had assigned her.

"I need to see Barton." Natasha demanded, snapping herself back into the professional that she had to be.

"He is in surgery at the moment. You can see him when he is out." Fury informed.

"What happened."

"Were still figuring that mess out. But for now, he received shrapnel to the back. It is unclear of how destructive the damage is." Coulson added in, standing up and straightening his tie.

Natasha got up, and shoved open the door, going to find her partner herself. Coulson tried to go after her, but Fury put his hand out to stop him.

"Let her go. Not even Odin himself would be able to stop her when she wants something."


End file.
